Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD7KZW9840K0JW24AFX5V5G

Molly unrolled the blueprint across the hood of the getaway car, which was a 2003 minivan with a mysterious smell Bill refused to discuss. "Alright," she said. "Saturday. Two p.m. The Henderson residence." "The Hendersons," Bill repeated, squinting. "The ones with the bounce house?" "The very same." "So let me get this straight. We're robbing a seven-year-old." "We're robbing a seven-year-old's party," Molly corrected. "There's a distinction." "Is there?" "Ethically, no. But logistically, yes, and logistics is my department." She tapped the blueprint. "Aiden Henderson requested a gold-plated drone. Forty guests. Do the math." Bill did the math, or at least moved his lips for a while. "That's... a lot of presents." "Forty presents, Bill. Unattended, piled on a gift table, guarded only by a woman named Debra who will be distracted by a chocolate fountain." "How do you know there's a chocolate fountain?" "Debra posted about it. Four times. Debra is very excited about the fountain." Bill nodded slowly. "So what's our cover? We can't just walk into a kid's party." "That's the beauty of it." Molly reached into the minivan and produced two garment bags. "We're the entertainment." "You hired us out as clowns?" "I hired us out as magicians. The Great Molini and her assistant, William the Adequate." "Why am I adequate?" "Because the Great Molini doesn't share top billing, and because last week you locked yourself in the trunk." "That was one time and the latch is faulty." Molly smoothed the blueprint. "The act runs forty-five minutes. While I perform, you drift to the gift table. The sack is hidden in the false bottom of the magic trunk." "The trunk I allegedly lock myself in." "The very one. You load the presents during my finale, which is twenty minutes of balloon animals, because nobody suspects a woman making a balloon giraffe." "I'd suspect her a little." "You suspect everyone. It's your one talent and it never helps." She rolled up the blueprint. "Then we close the show, load the trunk into the van, and we're gone before the cake." "Before the cake," Bill said wistfully. "Bill." "I'm just saying, it's a shame to leave before the cake. Themed cake, Molly. It's a dinosaur." "We are professionals." "Professionals who are stealing from a second grader." "A very wealthy second grader. His father owns three car washes." Bill sighed and leaned against the van. "Fine. But I have conditions. One, I keep my own balloon animal. Two, no sawing me in half. Last time you nicked my belt." "You bought a new belt." "That's not the point. And three"—he held up a finger—"if any kid asks me to make a balloon sword, I'm doing it. I'm not a monster." Molly considered this. "Deal. But if a kid asks to see inside the trunk?" "I tell them it's where the magic lives." "And if they don't buy it?" "Molly, they're seven. They bought the chocolate fountain being a good idea. They'll buy anything." She smiled and folded her arms. "Saturday, then. Bring your wand." "Bring your nerve," Bill said, and climbed into the van, which smelled, distantly, of regret.